#the teeth will keep biting and the hands will keep holding

[davinawritings]

Bewitched Dildo (Patreon Exclusive)

Pairing: Monster Best Friend X Human Female

Summary: Thunvak decides to gift his human best friend a monster dildo, based on his own cock, as a joke after you tell him to ‘go fuck himself’ one too many times. What happens when he is walking home and he realizes that the witch that made the dildo enchanted it so he can feel everything you do with the dildo? 

Warnings: Sex Toys, Oral (On A Sex Toy), Ruined Orgasm, Size Difference, Magic Sex Toy

Thunvak was almost halfway home, just about to pass the witch’s cottage, when he felt hands on his cock. He stops immediately, looking down at his groin. There’s no one near him and certainly no one touching his cock, but he can feel the hands slowly shifting up and down his shaft. 

He dashes for the nearby alleyway, trying to keep his cock under control, but the sensations don’t stop. His cock is fully hard and straining. The hands glide up and down, lightly squeezing his base and the sensitive tip. He bites into his lower lip with his sharp teeth, trying to hold back the moan. He needs to get to the witch. She must have done something with his cock when getting his measurements yesterday. 

He quickly runs for the witch’s store, seeing her sitting at the register counter. He makes his way there and nearly doubles over as he feels a warm tongue on the underside of his shaft. 

“Wh- What the fuck did yo-you do. Why can I feel han- FUCK- hands on my cock” he asks, trying to contain his groans. He feels like he needs to thrust his hips and rut into a hot wet cunt...

Full Version available on my Patreon!

[logansbelt]

౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧ I’m Imagining a extremely submissive Logan 🤍 ౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧

Sprawled out, his hair a wild, messy framing his flushed face. His chest rises and falls erratically, each shaky breath betraying how undone he’s become. His Adam’s apple bobs with every hard swallow, the motion drawing your attention as his throat works through a plea he’s too proud to fully voice.

“Please,” he whines , voice raw, a mix of frustration and desperation. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes lock onto yours, glinting with something feral, something needy. They roam over you like he can’t decide where to focus, lingering just long enough to make your skin burn under the weight of his gaze. His lips are swollen, slick from where he’s been nervously biting and licking at them, the sharp edge of his teeth catching faintly in the dim light.

He shifts beneath you, his body trembling as he fights against the vulnerability, his pride warring with the primal need etched across his features. His hips twitch slightly, seeking relief but unable to find it, his hands still gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering him to reality. The way his fingers flex and curl betrays how much he’s struggling to keep from losing himself completely.

“Baby don’t… tease me,” he whimpered through clenched words come out slurred, a little broken, but there’s no mistaking the desperation behind them. It lingers in the way his breath catches mid-sentence, how his lips curl just slightly around the words as though it pains him to say them out loud. His Adam’s apple bobs again when he swallows hard, his messy hair falling over his forehead, casting shadows across his face. His eyes flicker between defiance and surrender, his chest heaving as his breath catches, a strangled sound slipping from his throat.

“You’re killing me,” he groans, his voice rough and slurred, thick with the weight of his surrender. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and smoldering, like he’s trying to burn this moment into his memory.

“Just… take care of me, baby please” Logan says again, eyebrows furrowed the words trembling as they leave his lips, less a command and more a plea, steeped in desperation and trust. “Oh, God,” continued oh my gods him a broken record that sent shivers down your spine. His head fell back, his hips faster, harder, completely losing any rhythm in his desperation as he chased that release. His hand, already gripping yours, tightened, fingers interlocking with yours, his grasp growing harder with each movement, each frantic push. The pressure of his grip was almost enough to bruise, but he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t pull away. His need was consuming him.

“You feel so damn good,” he growled his accent bleeding through and making the confession even more intoxicating. His dark, half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, pupils blown wide, a flicker of frustration mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

His body trembled, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, his muscles taut as if straining against the intensity of it all. Every motion, every sound he made was desperate, primal, like he couldn’t hold anything back even if he tried. “Goddamn it,” he spoke again, the words barely audible, swallowed by the heat of the moment. There’s nothing left of , his body trembling as he gives himself over to you completely.

[teddybeartoji]

sukuna teaching you how to cook…       

pressed flush against you, his hand rests on top of yours as you grip the knife. it’s almost as if he’s the puppeteer and you his toy with the way he guides you – he moves, you move, you’re one and the same. his other hand is on you as well, fingers almost intertwined as he helps you hold the piece of meat steady on the cutting board. you can’t help but think how intimate it all feels, how close he is. 

his voice is deeper than usual and it’s making it very hard for you to concentrate, especially when his lips keep brushing over the shell of your ear. you’re trying, you really are, to pay attention to what he’s saying because it’s not often you get to see this side of him – cooking is something he adores, and he’s taking this way more seriously than you could’ve ever imagined. but it’s not like you’re complaining… oh, no – you’re loving every second of this. 

you’re sure he can feel that your breathing has picked up, and you’re sure he knows that you’re stumbling further and further away from being his perfect little pupil and falling head first into an entirely different role instead. your hold on the knife falters while his on your hand tightens. the meat before you bleeds and the clear juices coat the wooden board alongside with your fingers. 

and his. 

“focus, doll… “ 

his rasp catches you off-guard, his low voice pulling you from your thoughts. he hears you swallow the lump in your throat and you feel him smile against your ear. 

“i’m very focused, ryo…” 

“on the wrong things– yes.” you don’t have to see him to know that he’s wearing that annoyingly handsome smirk of his, ever so proud to have this kind of effect on his beloved.

you suck your teeth before poking your tongue against your inner cheek; your body grows hot at all the attention he’s giving you. sukuna presses forward an inch and your hips meet the edge of the kitchen counter – now completely sandwiched between him and the piece of furniture, your head clouds with thoughts so far from cooking that your knees nearly buckle from below you. 

“c’mon now.” he raises your hand with the knife still in your palm and holds it above the piece of red meat. the blade glints under the dimmed down light, the silver winking at you before sinking down into the raw cutlet. back and forth, the movement of your hands is slow but steady – the knives in your house are never dull, so every pull and every push you make feel as if you’re gliding through butter. 

but it’s not just the sharpened blade— 

it’s the sheer power he holds. 

sukuna’s hands are skilled, his fingers rough but surprisingly gentle at the very same time. he knows exactly how much force to use, how to cut through a piece of flesh with so much ease that the act makes you wonder about his past lives. a butcher, a killer? or perhaps a god instead? 

to slash and to score. to gut and then devour. 

caged in his arms, you feel like his next bite. his sharp teeth brush against your ear once more and you can’t help but tense up as a wave of excitement shoots through your body and a nervous chuckle tumbles from your lips. 

he hums. 

his fingers unwrap themselves from around your hand before reaching for the cut you just made. he picks it up and then shows it to you with pride. 

“not too thick, not too thin.” your mouth waters, you barely register his words. “remember that.” 

“mhmm.”

there isn’t an inch between your bodies and you can hardly breathe. 

“what did i say?”

with him, you’ve learned about this other kind of excitement; he asks you a question and there’s this pressure, a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach – it teeters between a giddy, butterflies of love type of thing and pure feverish thrill. 

walking in a circle, eyes on each other – a dance between the prey and the predator. the most he’d do is laugh, tease you a little. maybe even sink his teeth into your neck and inhale the whine you’d let out. that’s what he wants. a little sound. you’re in the palm of his hand and you both know it. 

but if you’re good…

“not too thick and not too thin.”

it’s a kiss from a beast that you’ll get in return. a word of praise from a god, a tender look from a killer. a safe haven behind a butcher’s ribcage.  

stained fingers find your cheek and you’re putty in his hands; it takes no effort at all to turn you to finally face him and it takes no time at all for him to press his lips against yours. but he doesn’t nip and he doesn’t bite, not this time. 

a soft spot in a lover’s heart.

[thef1diary]

What if you surprised dirtbag!carlos with your own pierced 🍒? And he insists on using his mouth to help with the soreness

— I love this, nonnie! Dirtbag!carlos au is just basically both of you getting piercings loll but hey imagine his tongue piercing clashing with your nipple piercing 👀 18+ content below

The second Carlos steps through the door, you can’t keep it in anymore. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen him, and the anticipation has been eating you alive. He barely has time to drop his keys on the counter before you lift your shirt, baring your chest to him with a sly grin.

“Missed me?” you tease, pressing your tits together to make them look even fuller, the new piercings gleaming under the light.

Carlos stops in his tracks, his dark eyes locking onto you like a predator spotting prey. His tongue runs across his bottom lip, the silver ball of his tongue piercing catching the light as he does. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he mutters, stepping closer, his gaze glued to your chest.

You bite your lip, tilting your head playfully as you gauge his reaction. “Got them pierced for you,” you say, your voice coy but laced with intent. “Wanted to surprise you. They’re still a little sore, though.”

Carlos groans, low and guttural, as if the words physically hit him. “You’re gonna be the death of me, nena,” he growls, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His hands grab your hips, his grip rough as he pulls you flush against him.

He ducks his head, brushing his nose against one of the bars. “Still tender, huh?” he murmurs, his lips barely grazing your skin. “Let me help you break them in.”

The first flick of his tongue is both a shock and a relief. The cool metal of his piercing meets yours, a sharp jolt of almost-painful pleasure shooting through you. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he starts working his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes over your nipple, teasing the sensitive skin around the bar.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you whimper, the sensation so intense it leaves you trembling.

“That feel good?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. He switches to the other nipple, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “Bet it does. Waited a whole week for me, hm? To take care of these for you.”

“Carlos,” you whine, your voice shaky as he sucks harder, his hand cupping your other tit, his thumb circling over the piercing there.

“Shh, nena,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and soothing, but the wicked smirk curling his lips betrays him. “Let me take care of you. You went through all this trouble just for me, didn’t you?”

Your answer is lost in the breathy sounds spilling from your lips as his tongue works over the piercing in slow, deliberate strokes. The press of his own piercing adds a delicious friction, the combination of pain and pleasure sending sparks through your body.

He doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands everywhere, pulling reactions from you that are completely beyond your control. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth is calculated, relentless, designed to push you closer to the edge of sanity. Your back arches, your fingers threading into his hair as if holding him there will somehow ground you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are gleaming with something feral.

“Gonna need a lot more time with these,” he says, his voice rough, thick with desire as his dark eyes lock onto yours. His thumbs stroke the sides of your tits, his touch almost reverent despite the hunger written all over his face.

You nod, unable to do anything else under the weight of his gaze. His lips curve into a dangerous grin, his teeth catching the edge of his bottom lip as he studies you.

“When they’re fully healed, princesa,” he purrs, his tone equal parts promise and threat, “I’ll spoil you with all kinds of jewelry—delicate chains, maybe some clamps. Ones that attach to these pretty little bars. Think you can handle that?”

A shiver runs through you at the thought, a needy whimper escaping your lips, and his smirk deepens. “You’d look so fucking good,” he adds, his voice dropping to a growl. “All dressed up, just for me.”

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[peachetteprice]

Having you wear his uniform, the one at the back of his wardrobe that he hasn't touched in years because it holds rank that he doesn't, any longer, is most precious to John. The vigour with which you grind against his hips is tumultuous, naked except for the hulking silhouette of his jacket and only his jacket; you grow satisfied with power each time he shudders with pleasure, because you're in control now and it feels wonderful, Lieutenant, because he'll do everything you say.

"Christ, that's it, there... there, Lieutenant." He likes to whistle as you let his cock bloat with cum inside your cunt, leaning into his neck to let out everything you can't within that persona, each whimper, each whine, each 'fuck, John', pitching with intensity as the hem of his jacket grazes his balls and makes rigid his nipples.

It's your turn to do all the work, palms re-braced on his trail, gripping at the occasional wrinkle of skin you find as he sits up on his elbows, sucks air through his teeth and watches as his cock is swallowed by your cunt, dribbling from the corners of its lips onto his thighs.

"Should'a made you wear this sooner, gorgeous..." He chuckles, and you gasp as his thumb travels from your hip bone to your clit, and presses, and watches a flicker of distress pinch at your cheeks as he does so, as he waits for you to realise it isn't his role anymore, not with you in his lap, wearing his clothes, rolling your hips against him at whatever pace you choose.

"Fast– no..." You bite down on your lip and snatch his hand from your cunt, securing it behind his own head. He grins - bastard almost got away with it. "Keep your hands to yourself, Private."

John chortles.

At which point your thighs strengthen, lift from his cock and pinch it between them before they dive back down with a wet shlick, and feel his abdomen tighten beneath your hand, and he groans, loud, beautifully pained, and quietly, just beneath his breath, he begs, panting,

"Permission to cum, Ma'am–" and even, quieter, strained– "please."

| Masterlist |

[omgkatherine01]

i neeeed a kraven smut where he’s warning the reader they can’t have sex because he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll hurt her. the reader is really submissive and innocent but he keeps smelling and sensing how turned on she is, the tension is too high and he gives in and they have really rough sex. i mean like him choking her, pinning her down, and maybe biting her. after he feels really bad for how rough he was, but he couldn’t help himself because it was all instincts from his animalistic side. i cannot stop thinking about it.

Kraven's Temptation

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!, little bit of blood

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei's eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as he growled, "We can't do this. I won't be able to control myself... I'll hurt you."

You trembled, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your body. "I--I trust you," you whispered, your innocence only heightening his primal urges.

He inhaled sharply, catching your scent. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his control slipping.

Unable to resist any longer, Sergei pounced, pinning you beneath him. His strong hands gripped your wrists as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You gasped as he bit your lower lip, drawing blood.

Sergei's grip tightened as he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You whimpered, both from pain and pleasure, as he bit down on your sensitive skin. His powerful body pressed you into the mattress, leaving you breathless.

"Mine," he growled possessively, one hand moving to encircle your throat. He applied just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as he roughly entered you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Sergei set a punishing pace, driven by pure animal instinct. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he took you relentlessly. You surrendered completely to his domination, lost in a haze of pain and ecstasy.

As the intensity built, Sergei's grip on your throat tightened. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he pounded into you mercilessly. Just when you thought you might pass out, he released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. The rush of oxygen heightened every sensation.

"That's it, take all of me," he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

You cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Sergei growled in approval, angling his hips to strike it again and again. The coil of pleasure inside you wound impossibly tight.

"Sergei, please!" you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Come for me," he commanded.

With a strangled cry, you obeyed. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as your body convulsed beneath him. Sergei groaned deeply, your release triggering his own. He thrust into you a final time, holding you tightly as he spilled himself inside you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing. As the haze of passion faded, Sergei's eyes widened in horror at the marks covering your body. Bruises were already forming on your wrists and hips, and angry red bite marks dotted your neck and shoulders.

"Oh god," he choked out, scrambling off of you. "I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't control myself. I told you I would hurt you."

You winced slightly as you sat up, your body aching pleasantly. "Sergei, it's okay," you said softly, reaching for him. "I wanted it. All of it."

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. "No, it's not okay. I... I'm a monster. I should never have let this happen."

You reached out to gently touch Sergei's arm. "You're not a monster," you said softly. "Please don't say that."

He flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "Look at what I've done to you," he said hoarsely. "I could have seriously hurt you. I did hurt you."

"But you didn't seriously hurt me," you insisted. "I'm okay, Sergei. More than okay."

He finally met your gaze, searching your face. "How can you say that? After what I just did..."

You took his hand, placing it over your heart. "Feel that? My heart is racing, but not from fear. I've never felt more alive." You leaned in closer. "Or more wanted."

Sergei's expression softened slightly. "You truly aren't afraid of me?"

"Never," you breathed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were made of glass. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into your hair.

You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cherished. "Let me be the judge of that."

Sergei's arms tightened around you, his body still tense with lingering guilt. You nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his musky scent.

"I meant what I said," you murmured. "I trust you completely."

He sighed, running his fingers gently through your hair. "Your trust in me is misplaced. I lost control. My instincts took over and I..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

You tilted your head up to meet his troubled gaze. "And you gave me exactly what I needed," you said softly. "What we both needed."

Sergei's brow furrowed. "How can you say that? I was far too rough. I could have seriously harmed you."

"But you didn't," you insisted. "You pushed me to my limits, yes. But you didn't go beyond them." You traced your fingers along his stubbled jaw. "That's the difference between you and a true monster, Sergei. Even in the throes of passion, some part of you was still aware. Still in control."

He caught your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

You shifted in his arms, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested. Sergei immediately loosened his hold, concern etched on his features.

"See?" you said with a soft smile. "You're still being gentle with me now. Your instincts aren't solely about violence or domination."

Sergei's expression remained troubled, but some of the tension left his body. He carefully traced the marks he'd left on your skin, his touch feather-light.

"I never want to hurt you," he murmured.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "Then don't push me away," you said. "That's the only thing that could truly hurt me."

Sergei's eyes softened as he gazed at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. "You were simply yourself," you replied. "That's all I ever wanted."

As Sergei held you close, his guilt began to fade. In its place, a fierce protectiveness took root. He may not fully trust himself, but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe - even from his own darker nature.

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

Had writers block like a mofo lately but here’s a quick little unedited snippet from the frat boy au idea (link here) that got floated in my asks awhile back❤️ 1K of cuteness below of Gale starting his week as John’s assigned pledge and John being like ‘these hands don’t haze’ but they do make Gale fall in love 😘🤣

“Good morning,” Gale announced softly as he shut the door behind himself and crossed the messy room to open the blinds just enough to see where he was going.

John inhaled sharply, hands rubbing at his eyes before he rolled over onto his side and grinned sleepily at Gale. It was unfair how stupidly attractive he was all sleep warm and cozy under his covers while Gale was braving the world before double digits.

“Mornin’,” John murmured, stretching his legs underneath the covers with a muted groan.

Gale held out the mug of coffee, biting his bottom lip against a smile at John’s pleased hum when he took the steaming mug. He stood waiting for his next instructions.

Today was his first day as John’s pledge. His last week as a pledge before finding out who his big would be and initiation. Gale wanted it all to go perfectly.

“What’re you doin’ awake so early?” John asked, squinting at Gale as he propped himself up on an elbow and took a sip of his coffee.

“You have class at 8:00,” Gale answered, like it was that simple because it was. He hoped he didn’t have to explain much past that, it was too early for him to truly function.

“Your first class s’not ’til 10:00 today,” John argued, frowning at Gale as he took another sip.

Gale shrugged in response. Curt, Brady, Ev, Jack, and Dickie had all wanted coffee brought to them in bed the weeks he was their designated pledge. It seemed intuitive to do the same for John even if he was seconds away from faceplanting on John’s floor from exhaustion.

Gale’s lack of response seemed to incense him further as he reminded Gale, “you told me you hate mornings and you’re slow to get going in the morning.”

Nodding, Gale didn’t argue because he had said that and it was true. He hated the way it made John’s frown deepen.

John eyed him for a few beats before sucking on his teeth and asking, “how many cups of coffee have you had so far?”

“One,” Gale admitted, feeling sheepish and directing his gaze at the floor when John sucked on his teeth like he was disappointed.

“Alright, c’mere you nerd,” John ordered.

Gale’s eyes darted back up to see John holding his duvet up in invitation. It left miles of pale skin over obscenely cut muscles on display and Gale had to remind himself to keep his mouth closed.

John was inviting him to cuddle. In his bed. Under the covers. At 6:30 AM. On a Monday. While only wearing boxer briefs.

Gale didn’t know if he was in heaven or hell.

“C’mon, Buck,” John urged, a soft smile stretching across his face. “Veep’s orders.”

Nodding hesitantly, Gale kicked off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and letting John arrange him to his liking. They settled with Gale propped against the pillows slightly and John’s cheek smashed against his chest. He hoped against all hope that John couldn’t hear the way his heart was hammering in his chest.

John held up the cup of coffee and Gale obligingly took a sip, sighing in delight at the rich taste before letting his eyes fall closed. A pleased hum vibrated against Gale’s chest and he couldn’t help the shiver that wracked his body at feeling the noise coming from John.

They lay in silence for long enough that Gale started to feel sleep creep over him despite his usual struggle to fall back asleep once he was already up. John would occasionally nudge his chin gently with the mug of coffee and Gale would take a sip. Between John’s body heat, the duvet, and the coffee, Gale felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon of contentment despite being awake at such an unfathomable time.

“You don’t have to wake me up with coffee every morning this week,” John whispered before something sharp gently dug into Gale’s chest.

Opening his eyes and glancing down, Gale saw John propping his chin on his chest and peering up at him with sleep puffy blue eyes.

“If I do, can we do this every morning?”

It tumbled out before Gale could think twice and he lamented the flush burning down his ears. He mentally thanked whoever was listening that it was still too dark in John’s room for it to be visible.

“I’ll make you a deal,” John countered, smiling up at Gale with so much warmth Gale didn’t think he would ever be cold again. “Tomorrow and Thursday you can bring me coffee and bring yourself a second cup and we can do this again. Wednesday and Friday though, you sleep in and I’ll bring you coffee in bed and we can do this at yours.”

Gale didn’t even have to consider it. Wasn’t even going to bother asking Benny if he minded John coming into their dorm room.

He didn’t want to seem too eager though. Didn’t want John to know just how much he loved whatever had been building between them since John had thrown an arm over his shoulders and called him Buck 6 weeks ago on opening night of rush week.

He pretended to contemplate it before agreeing with a put upon sigh, “okay.”

“Knew you’d see reason,” John replied cheekily before holding the cup up for Gale to take the last sip.

When it was gone, John set the mug on his nightstand before crawling over Gale to get out of bed. It took everything in Gale to fight down the whine that wanted to escape his mouth.

“Now, you just stay there and look pretty while I get ready, okay?” John said as he started gathering what looked like workout clothes, Gale opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll try to get through everything quickly so that after I shower, I can come back and snuggle you some more, you little cuddle bug.”

Gale was so excited by the prospect he didn’t even bother to let himself feel worried about being so caught out. He just wriggled further under John’s duvet to John’s apparent delight and tracked him as he stumbled around the room to get ready.

He hadn’t taken a nap in almost a decade. However, after John left it only took moments for Gale to fall back asleep. Surrounded by the warmth of John’s duvet and the scent of John’s cologne and shampoo, Gale didn’t have a choice.

Gale could definitely get used to this.

[midnightfiction143]

ilyt

kinich x g!n reader, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, sfw, slight ooc kinich cus I'm still getting used to his character, not proofread as usual

a/n: well this is something.. stayed up til 2 to write what was supposed to be a quick one-shot that I would edit in the morning hahah. mostly testing the waters to see if people prefer hcs or fics. also I kinda wanna change the font so it's not boring but I'm a bit lazy.. enjoy ig?

“and don’t even deny it, i can see the look in your face when you’re weighing your ”cost” of a decision. god, you have it on your face right now!” you exclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him.

it was true - even at the very moment, in the middle of an argument, kinich’s face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing as he weighed the consequences if he argued back with you.

kinich sighed. “y/n. let’s not do this now, please. i’m tired and you’re tired - we should do this when we both have a clear head.”

you suppressed a groan of anger and stared at him accusingly, eyes spilling with annoyance. “no, i want to do this now. i’m sick and tired of running away from this conversation that you keep pushing back! do not blame this on just me being tired!”

kinich’s fist curled up in irritation. he was trying really hard to not lash out at you - nothing good would come out from that except for both of you getting hurt. his restraint was like a rope slowly fraying in the middle, waiting to be broken at any time.

instead, he placed his gaze on the floor so he wouldn’t have to see your face at the moment, and gritted his teeth. “y/n, you’re angry but it’s not-”

“stop stalling, for god’s sake! did you even hear me when i sa-”

the rope snapped.

he looked up at you with a piercing glare that radiated fury. startled, you cut off midway through your sentence, jaw still hanging wide open. a wave of nervousness quickly washed over you. kinich had never stared at you like this before, ever. you were too used to the small, affectionate gazes when he saw you smile or do something silly. no, this couldn’t be kinich. he wouldn’t st-

“no, y/n, I have been listening. if you don’t like that, then just leave.” he hissed.

you tried to tell him, despite the rising, underlying fear of your own boyfriend. “no, wait, but-”

if your throat didn’t close up at that exact moment, you wouldn’t have heard the words muttered under his breath as he stared back down at the floor again.

“i wish you’d just go already. you’ve been an nuisance from the start anyway.”

you froze. you could already feel the hot tears pricking at your face near the start of the argument, but now they spilled out, ruining your makeup and you had to bite your lip to refrain yourself from sobbing in front of him right then and there.

where did this come from? what happened to your loving and subtly caring boyfriend, kinich? you felt guilty now, you wanted to say sorry that you shouted out at him and started this whol- no, that’s what he wants you to do. then he wins.

so you swallowed down your apologies and forced your head downwards, not daring to meet his gaze. “fine.” you barely choked out, and clenched your fists as you stormed off to your (unfortunately) shared bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the door creaked open slowly, and you could feel him shuffling in before gently closing it again.

“..hey.”

you were curled up on the bed, hugging your knees, and kinich could tell you had been crying. he moved over to just behind you, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder.

“y/n.. i’m sorry for all the things I said. I didn’t mean them.. it was- I was just frustrated in the moment, and.. I definitely shouldn’t have said the last part, i’m sorry. i’m.. not so good with words, but know that i’m speaking the truth when I say you mean a lot to me. i’m so lucky to have you in my life. I want you to know that I love you.”

there was silence after that. kinich paused, worried he said the wrong thing.

“i’m here for you, if you need me.”

the dam holding in all your tears broke.

you turned around, tears welling in your eyes, and flung your arms around him. kinich, although a little startled by the abruptness, wrapped his arms around your body warmly. you sniffed, blinking out tears as you pressed against him. “i love you too, kinich. it’s not all your fault - I shouldn’t have bursted out at you. you were right, I was tired, but I didn’t want to admit it just because of my pride.”

kinich rested his hand on your back, patting it softly. “it’s okay..”

you looked up at him, and he almost wanted to laugh. the contrast between his face and yours with tears staining, red eyes and nose and messy hair was.. kind of adorable. you spotted the small curve upwards on his lips and smacked him lightly. “stop it, i was tryna have a serious moment for once!”

you could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips gently against yours. “yeah, yeah, love you too.”

[honorhearted]

With a growing flush curling across his cheeks, and his chest heaving with breath, Benjamin was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on Anne's conversation. She wasn't wrong in her claims -- it certainly would be cruel of her to collect her clothes and go home -- but he couldn't understand how he was nearly a puddle on the floor, while meanwhile, she was lazily stroking his cock and speaking as if it were about to rain.

Barely biting back a frustrated growl, Benjamin dropped his face into his hands and exhaled, arching up into her strokes each time she redoubled her efforts. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm...i-if I'm...ah...f-fu..." Embarrassed, he didn't dare lift his head as he finally gritted out, "If I'm unable to speak. This is...th-this isn't bloody teatime, for God's sake."

He could sense Anne's burgeoning amusement, and to be honest, if he wasn't so fraught with arousal, he'd undoubtedly be grinning too.

“Where do you want my mouth? You have to tell me, or show me.”

The request caused a shudder to bolt up his spine.

“Here?" Her lips found the inner pulse of his wrist, making his skin tingle beneath the sweet pressure of her mouth. "Or here?" Shameless, she grazed her fingertips along Benjamin's inner thigh, and he swallowed, instinctively snatching her wrist. He tightened his hold, keeping her palm pressed over his skin.

Undeterred, Anne's eyes gleamed as she continued her tease, and lowering down until her breath was warming his cock, she feigned innocence and asked, "...Or maybe here?”

Unwilling to give her the last laugh, a sheepish smile tipped Benjamin's lips as he murmured, "If you don't know where I'm responsive, then perhaps you're not the best suited to be a teacher, Miss Wynter. Perhaps it should be me who is teaching you."

Nevertheless, Benjamin knew by now that Anne preferred to be instructed -- perhaps she preferred to be led more than she let on -- so with his fingers twisting through her dark hair, he guided her back down toward his aching cock and shuddered, grinding helplessly into her lips as he gnashed his teeth from the wanted contact.

Arching up into her touch, he was careful not to roll his hips too forcefully, lest he breach her mouth and choke her with his ardor. Breathless, he informed her, "I am a stone's throw away from...f-from pinning you down to the bloody floor, so I hope...I-I hope..." Unable to finish his weak threat, he tightened his hold and gave her hair a more commanding tug.

Seeing him writhe beneath her touch was intoxicating in a way that made a wave of shame wash over her. This was far from ladylike. This was far from the respectable, subservient woman she had learned to be over the last ten years. But it felt so natural. She wanted to please him, wanted him to want her with every fiber of his being, the way she wanted him.

Was this what it felt like for George the first time he'd showed her what to do? The intense rush of excitement and shameless lack of self-awareness that came with the territory? She didn't dare assume that Ben had encountered many moments like this, but even she was surprised by his surprise. Was she being too forward? Was she behaving too wantonly? She didn't want him to think badly of her, not now, and yet she couldn't help but think this is what men wanted. Surely, it's what he wanted, too.

His words elicit a soft chuckle as she shook her head. “Believe me, Benjamin Tallmadge, I have other plans for those infernal quips of yours. This, though, is for my own enjoyment." For a moment, the light dampened in her eyes and a flash of concern crossed her features. "I can stop, if you wish."

His body's reaction was enough of an answer for her and she bit the inside of her cheek to quell the growing grin. The last thing she wanted was to be too daring or too obnoxious, and yet she couldn't help but tease him, even in moments of pure intimacy. Some things would never change, she supposed.

"No, a truly cruel and diabolical woman would stop, collect her clothes, and go home." Slowly, she began to move her hand again, pausing every few strokes to tease him further. "Luckily for you, I fully intend to finish what I started. I'm just not in any rush." Anne narrowed her eyes as she asked, "Are you?"

Her eyes widened for a split second before her lips pulled into an amused grin. Most of their relationship--or all of it, really-- had been centered around talking, and teasing, and joking. The fact that they had finally gotten to a point of comfortability, to a point where they didn't need words to express their emotions and desires was arousing in its own way.

“Where?” She raised her eyes to meet his as she kept her question short and straight to the point. His thumb brushed across her lip and she sighed. It was startling how badly she wanted him, how desperately her body yearned to take him inside and make him hers. Parting her lips, she gently took his finger into her mouth, the corners twitching upwards as she lightly sucked on the tip of his thumb. After his skin was sufficiently coated in a light layer of saliva, she pulled away and prodded again. “Where do you want my mouth? You have to tell me, or show me.”

Although he had suggested that she stopped talking, Anne wasn't sure how she was supposed to continue her acts of seduction without teasing him in a verbal way. She knew she was pretty, but she'd always been more confident in her wit. After all, Anne was pretty confident it was her wit that had bonded them in the first place--that, and her incessant desire to fluster him. Sure, she knew what she could do with her body to make him relax, and what she could do to his, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to know that he wanted it, that she wasn't overstepping their boundaries.

“Here?" Turning her cheek, she pressed a soft kiss to the pulse of his wrist, a strikingly innocent gesture compared to her other, more lascivious acts. "Or here?" With her free hand, she lightly grazed the skin of his thigh again, fighting to maintain an even expression as her heart raced. It was a testament to her patience, she thought, that she wasn't climbing atop him and smothering him with her own kisses.

"...Or maybe," With painstaking slowness, she leaned her head down lower again, whispering the word against the sensitive skin of his erection as she fluttered her lashes. "Here?”

[diazsdimples]

To absolutely no ones surprise, I am sending Doctor AU emojis ⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️

18 doctory sentences! And my apologies in advance 😬

“I’ve called blood bank and initiated the massive hemorrhage protocol, but they had a problem cross matching her blood so there’s going to be a delay. I don’t think –” “I know, Bobby,” Eddie snaps. The tension in the room is thick enough to bite, and Eddie knows they’re all in crisis mode. The insistent plink plink plink of blood falling to the floor sets Eddie’s teeth on edge as he rushes to push the retractor towards Jessica’s bladder, holding it out of the way so he can properly get to the uterus. “Hold that,” he instructs, pushing the retractor towards the junior doctor on the other side of the table. “Keep it taut, I don’t want to risk giving her a bladder injury on top of everything else.” Although, internally, Eddie knows a bladder injury will be the least of her worries, if she makes it out of the OR. He works methodically, clamping blood vessels and isolating ligaments and nerve bundles. The junior doctor holds each retractor as instructed, but Eddie can see the way her hands shake, the metal instruments clinking together as she stands as still as she can. The room is silent, save for the sound of the ventilator and the dripping. It’s slowed down since Eddie managed to clamp the bisected artery, but he knows there’s still little to no hope from here. Without fresh blood to replace what she’s lost, Jessica’s heart won’t be able to pump effectively, and eventually it’ll give up entirely. But he can’t stop. He won’t stop, not until… “Eddie.” He begins the first cut, eyes focused solely on the operating field, filled with less blood now but still complete carnage. “Eddie,” Bobby’s voice, insistent and strained, jolts him. “She’s gone into asystole. Commencing resuscitation.”

[hermesserpent-stuff]

@honey-minded-hivemind

more red eyed kitten au

Remy snarls and presses his back to a wall. He keeps his arms close to himself and keeps his eyes on the door. People slowly had been moved out of this room as they were ‘processed’. He has no idea what happens to them once they leave the room. He has no idea what goes on here. He just knows that mutants who are taken disappear forever. 

So, Remy has been refusing anything offered to him. No food. No drink. No touch. He speaks to the children imprisoned here, but they eventually give in and are taken. The adults avoid him. Remy twists the metal band that links over his wrist that is locked tight and has a bar code that they scan on everyone else when they eat.

A man comes in with a set of glasses and a frown. He walks right towards Remy who tenses further. His stomach aches from no food, his bones burn from his powers no being released, and his eyes hurt from the artificial light. 

“You are going to eat.”

“Connard. Non.”

Remy snarls out, pressing into the wall. A few more people enter the room and the other inmates shift away. No one will help. Remy is alone. 

“We are trying to help you. Eat. Or we are going to have to force you. For your own good.”

Remy growls.

“Gambit will rip off your hands.”

He hisses in threat. Hands start to grab at him and he fights. He kicks and screeches and devolves into biting. His teeth dig down deep and then he rips his head to the side. He tears through skin. Bloodlust fills his brain as the viscous liquid drips from his very small fangs.  He tackles someone else and bites harshly into the arm which blocks him from a throat bite. His stomach howls and he lets his hands spark. He is yanked backwards and something is jammed into his mouth. And something else is jammed into his arm.

Remy blacks out.

When he wakes up, he is tied up and something is on his face. He snarls and then shivers. He yanks on the restraints, but he is well and truly stuck. There is a beep, and something starts to fill his veins. Cold. consuming.  His explosive powers are out of reach and he worries. He tries to stay fierce, but terror takes his heart. He begins to cry. He just wants to go home!

“Papa!!! Henri!!!!”

He calls, knowing that they wont hear him, but he hopes. Hopes… hopes.. He keeps calling, even as his voice grows ragged and his veins. The thing on his face cuts into his screen with every movement of his jaw and all his screams. He ends up silently crying and staring at the wall blankly.

--

They have to hold onto his arms while taking blood. Remy kicks and flails and his empathy powers snap free, drenching the walls in his fear and soaking into the bones of the mutants pinning him. They tear up as he sobs for his family. His chest struggles and heaves and then he blacks out again. 

--

Creed is a cold man. Losing a cub will do that to a feral. He follows with the other mutant’s plans to give him the best chance of finding his cub again. His ruby eyed little baby cub. 

He shakes the snow off his coat as he returns to base. He had successfully tracked and gotten three more mutants brought in. A lady dashes up to him when he enters.

“Wolverine’s been trying to get to you since yesterday afternoon.”

Creed takes the phone and grunts.

“You need to get back to the main base Creed. We have a red eyed kid here.”

Creed freezes, heart suddenly beating fast.

“Red on black?” 

“Red on black Victor.”

“On my way Jimmy.”

--

Creed stares through the camera at the muzzled and bound kid. Iv’s drip in nutrients, liquid, and sedation. Those brillant red eyes glow softly when they are open.

“He bit into people when we tried to feed him after he refused to eat for days.”

Cyclops says in response to Creed’s snarling over the muzzle.

“Im taking it off.”

“We cant have him biting attendants.”

“Ill keep him from biting others. Im taking it off one eye.”

He snaps and then leaves. He is going to see the cub. It had been too long. Almost 14 years. 

“Careful! Hes an empath!”

Cyclops yells after him. Creed grunts in reply.

He comes into the room and grabs the kid’s jaw. A huge wave of fear hits his mind and nose as he stares into wide ruby eyes. They are puffy with tears. 

“Oh… Cub.” 

He had never gotten a chance to know his cub. But he could never forget those eyes. Eyes that looked at him with bubbly joy, shimmering dependance, and love. Now they only hold fear and defiance. He cups his child’s chin and removes the muzzle. He had been muzzled before. He hates that his child had experienced it.

“Do I get to die now?”

The kid asks, eyes shimmering with tears and exhaustion. He has her nose. And her hair. Creed runs his thumb over the cheek bone.

“No. Never.”

“Connards.”

The kid spits out and then actually spits before trying to bite at Creed. Creed accepts the bite, still enamored with seeing his son again. 

“Oh. my little cub.”

He cuts the bindings and sweeps the child up into his arms. The kid tenses and then begins to flail, kicking, clawing, and biting. Creed holds tight, nose buried in the kid’s hair. The smell of pack is there, buried oh so deep. Love sweeps through him and the kid freezes.

“My son.”

Creed sobs. 

“... I’m not your son you piece of- you vile horrid tataille! Merde! Diable! Arête! Chepasse!!! I got a papa!!”

The kid screams and violently wriggles, but his strength is flagging. The kid curls up and whimpers.

“Just let me go home.”

Sorrow claws into Creed.

“You are home cub.”

[xx-rabidpossum-xx]

"I Forgot"

Konrad Curze x reader(NSFW)

Author's Note: based off on @meangreennunseen text post and encouraged by @bats-and-birds-24 Here is my first attempt at writing Konrad(and first time posting a fic on tumblr tbh -w-)

Wordcount: 1k+

cw: biting, rough sex, slight blood, forgetting to use a condom(safe sex is best sex you guys)

The air was stuffy and warm as the Night Haunter repeatedly kissed your skin and occasionally nipping at the flesh, tasting the fresh iron flowing from the nicks. A whimper escapes your lips as he moves lower from your breast, to your hips, his fingers scraping your skin “gently” as you grip the soft bed sheets. He had been ravaging your cunt for what seemed like hours, until he stopped just before you came on his tongue.

A small bite brings you out of your haze as you look down and try to see Konrad ever so slightly sink his teeth just above your womb and stomach. Heat rushes to your face as you squirm from the pain and pleasure. “You taste so sweet, just for me” he purrs softly while licking the small wound and trailing his tongue back up. You reach for his face and cradle his cheeks, hearing the purring more closely. “Konrad”, you say softly. He hums in response and continuously touches your body. “You have protection…right?” 

A pause, he kisses your nose and reaches for something in the dark. Only he could see the bedside table and the, “protection” he had was flayed skin from a recent kill. Neatly cleaned and dried with extra skin to act as a tie since it was any kind of real rubber. Konrad had made sure to clean it thoroughly lest the smell reach your nose and gave away the surprise. While the thought of your smelling fresh blood and being horrified did arouse something inside him, he wanted to scare you differently. Perhaps a chase in the dark, where he could hold you down and bite your stomach more and more-

Konrad shakes those thoughts away as he feels you rub your wet and aching clit against his thigh in an attempt to get friction. He only dozed off for a second and you were acting like a bitch in heat. He was going to absolutely ruin you. Screw the danm condom. He threw the condom away into the dark room somewhere and turned you so you were on your stomach, raising your hips up, his legs trapped you into position. His hard cock already leaking with precum as it rubbed against your ass.

Your mind forgets about the condom as it’s lost function when feeling konrad rubbing against you. He moves the head of his cock against your folds a few times, reveling at the shiver down going your spine. His claws sink into your hips as the head catches your entrance, a small yelp escapes your lips as Konrad slowly but roughly pushes his shaft into you. A low groan emits from his throat, feeling your cunt suck him in more with your warmth when he bottoms out. He licks your shoulder softly, then bites down, causing you to let out a breathy moan. The feeling of his thick cock makes you feel breathless, which then Konrad gives you no time to adjust as he starts to roughly thrust into you, making you whimper and moan with each thrust. 

“K-konrad, please-mmph- slow down a bit” you mewl out as quickly as you can before one of his hands shoves your head into the pillows. “Konrad, you're too r-rough-Ah!” Your weakened pleas only seem to goad him on as he starts to thrust rougher, making your eyes prick with tears at the pain but also moaning at the debauchery of the situation.”Mine, only mine.”, he snarled into your shoulder. A hand snaking down to between your folds and rubbing your clit, making you jolt in surprise. You’re so caught up in the moment that when your orgasim hits, it hits you like a train. Crashing through you while Konrad still drills rougher into your womb. 

Konrad was treating you like a piece of meat, biting you and fucking you without care, you still smell the blood from your stomach and shoulder bites as they try to clot, only for Konrad to lick the wounds to keep them fresh. Konrad tried to be gentle at times, but it usually spiraled into you waking up with a few bruises and new bite marks on your body. But each time he was always able to touch your insides where your fingers couldn’t reach, always able to hit that spot in your womb that makes you see stars each time. He was trying to be gentle, but it felt amazing to feel him use you, even if it did cause you to whine like a rabbit caught by a wolf.

Tears roll down your cheeks as the primarch slows down and begins to thrust slowly but deeper, hitting your cervix each time. The pressure building up was starting to become unbearable as Konrad began to kiss the bite mark he left, like putting a balm on a sore wound, it was the last thing you needed before you came over his cock, your second orgasm rippling through you. Korad followed suit as he steadied himself and released his hot load into you. You could almost feel your stomach distend a bit from the amount in your womb. He slowly pulls out of your warm slit, watching his seed spill out down your thighs. He takes his fingers and begins to try and push his spend back into your gaping hole, earning a soft moan from you. 

Sighing contently, you roll onto your back, which Konrad lays next to you. Curling around your tired form, waiting for you to give him the go-ahead for another rough when it dawns on you. “Konrad, did you use a condom?” Silence between you both, you couldn't see his expression, but you just knew he was grinning. Horror flashes onto your face as you feel more heat rush to your cheeks. Konrad surprises you with a kiss, holding you there with a hand on your cheek as he deepens it, licking your bottom lip and occasionally grazing his razor sharp teeth over your soft tissue. You feel his hand travel down and begins to find your clit again, making you squirm. “I guess I forgot, my lovely piece of meat.” You feel his toothy grin against your lips and he gets on top of you, the hand in your face roaming down to your breast, giving it a not-so-gentle-squeeze.

[onebadassunicorn]

Can’t Help Wanting You

pairing: Cassian x Reader

content warnings: pining, sparring, SMUT (18+)

word count: 5.4k

If you want to be added to the taglist, please leave me a note!

Taglist: @motheroffae @annamariereads16

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

********************

Chapter 3

Y/n POV

As you began to settle into life at the Night Court with training and preparing for your first mission, you realized the nights were the worst.

You could handle the days—barely.

You could stomach the way Cassian smiled at you like nothing had changed, like you were both still stuck in the roles you'd always played: him, the cocky, untouchable warrior, and you, the stubborn girl who would never quite measure up in his eyes. You could endure the stolen glances when you crossed paths on the training grounds, the way your chest tightened when he laughed, the way your body betrayed you at the mere sound of his voice.

But the nights?

The nights were agony.

The walls of the House of Wind weren't thick enough to drown out the sounds. Not when Cassian brought another woman into his room, their laughter spilling into the halls, followed by muffled whispers, soft moans, and the unmistakable sound of pleasure. You would lie in your bed, your fists clenched in the sheets, your teeth biting down on your pillow to keep from screaming.

You hated it. Hated the way your imagination ran wild at the sound of his deep, rough voice murmuring something you couldn't quite make out. Hated the way your heart twisted at the thought of someone else touching him, of someone else getting what you'd secretly, desperately wanted for years.

Your nights became a battlefield of longing and jealousy. You would close your eyes, trying to block out the sounds, but it only made your imagination more vivid. You'd picture Cassian's lips on yours, rough and demanding, the heat of his body pressed against your own. You'd imagine his hands sliding over your skin, his fingers mapping every curve, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The jealousy burned like a poison in your veins.

You hated those women-faceless, nameless fae women who had what you couldn't bring yourself to claim. You hated the way they made him laugh, the way they made him groan in that low, guttural way that sent shivers down your spine even when you weren't the one in his bed.

But more than anything, you hated yourself.

Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you wanted to storm into his room and drag him away, you couldn't. You couldn't bring herself to tell him how you felt, couldn't risk the rejection you were certain would follow.

To him, you were still the girl he needed to protect, the stubborn soldier who would never be anything more than a friend, a sister in arms.

And so you lay there, night after night, your chest aching as the sounds from his room carried through the walls. Your heart twisted with every moan, every soft murmur, your jealousy rising like a tide you couldn't hold back.

You would never admit it aloud, not even to yourself, but deep down, you wished it was you.

Wished it was your name on his lips, your body beneath his, your touch that made him lose control.

You wanted to be the one who left him breathless, who made him forget everything but you.

But you knew better than to dream of things that weren't meant to be.

So you buried your longing, your jealousy, and your heartbreak, letting them fester in the quiet moments of the night.

Because even if Cassian didn't know it, even if he never looked at you the way you wanted him to, your heart would always belong to him.

And that was the cruelest truth of all.

********

Cassian POV

The music at Rita’s pulsed through the air, loud enough to vibrate in Cassian’s chest. The Inner Circle had gathered around their usual corner table, laughing, drinking, and unwinding after a long week. Mor had dragged them all out for a night of fun, and Cassian, always up for a drink or two—or five—had been eager to join.

Until she walked in.

He saw her before anyone else did, and his brain stuttered to a halt. She wore a red dress that hugged her body like it was designed to ruin him. The neckline plunged low, showing off smooth, golden skin, and the thigh-high slit revealed her toned legs as she walked. Her black thigh high boots completed the sultry outfit. Her golden-brown hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the dim light, and her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as danced with an unknown male on the dance floor.

Cassian swallowed hard, gripping his glass tighter as she turned to laugh at something the man said. When she shifted just right, the slit of her dress opened wider, and it hit him like a thunderbolt as he caught a glimpse of her naked hip.

She wasn’t wearing any panties.

He dragged a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. “Mother above, she’s going to kill me.”

He slammed back the rest of his drink in one gulp, trying to calm the fire coursing through his veins.

“You okay there, Cass?” Azriel’s quiet voice cut through his haze, and Cassian glanced over to find his brother watching him with a knowing expression.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, already signaling the bartender for another drink.

Azriel didn’t press, though the slight twitch of his lips told Cassian he wasn’t fooled.

The night wore on, and Cassian tried his best to focus on the conversation at the table, on the drinks in front of him, on anything other than her.

But she was everywhere.

She moved like she owned the room, her laughter floating over the music as she talked and danced with the others.

Cassian’s gaze drifted across the room to where she stood near the edge of the dance floor,

She looked… radiant. Effortless. And entirely too captivating.

“Careful,” Azriel murmured from beside him, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. “You’re staring.”

Cassian tore his gaze away, scowling into his drink. “I’m not staring.”

Azriel’s shadows curled lazily around him, as if to emphasize his amusement. “Sure.”

It started with one male—tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly interested—who approached her near the bar. Y/n smiled politely, shook her head, and sent him on his way, but Cassian’s jaw tightened all the same. Then another approached her on the dance floor, and this time, she didn’t immediately brush him off. She danced with him for a song or two, her movements fluid and hypnotic, and Cassian’s grip on his glass turned white-knuckled.

Attention followed her at every turn, which was not surprising as her outfit left little to imagination.

And Gods, did she have attention.

Heads turned any time she would pass by.

Women looked at her, wishing they could be her.

And the men looked like they wanted a taste of her.

By the time the third male approached her, he was on his fifth drink, his vision tinged with red. He watched as she laughed at something the male said, her head tilting back, her hair cascading over her shoulder like liquid gold. And when she turned just enough for the slit in her dress to part, showing off her bare hip, Cassian had to look away before he did something stupid.

“She’s driving you crazy,” Mor said, appearing at his side with a sly grin. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“She’s not driving me crazy,” Cassian muttered, though even he didn’t believe the words.

Mor snorted, sipping her drink. “Right. That’s why you’re sitting here glaring at every male who so much as looks at her.”

He didn’t answer, because she was right, and he hated it. He hated how much it bothered him to see her smiling at other men, how much it burned to watch her laugh and dance like he wasn’t even there.

Cassian didn’t respond, his attention snapping back to the dance floor just in time to see it. The blond male leaned down, his lips brushing against Y/n’s in a slow, lingering kiss. Cassian’s breath caught, fury rising in his chest, but it wasn’t over. The male kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands sliding up her bare back, over her hips, pulling her closer. She didn’t push him away.

No. She kissed him back.

“That’s the fourth one tonight who has had the guts to approach her,” Azriel observed, his tone annoyingly neutral. “She’s popular.”

Cassian’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need a running tally, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows curled lazily around his shoulders, the bastard clearly enjoying this. “She’s wearing that dress for a reason, you know.”

Cassian shot him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azriel shrugged, his expression annoyingly neutral. “Maybe she’s trying to get someone’s attention.”

Cassian grunted, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He tried to ignore the way his chest tightened as the male stepped even closer, his hand brushing Y/n’s arm. She didn’t seem bothered—in fact, she looked like she was enjoying herself. Too much.

“She can handle herself,” Azriel added, but there was a knowing edge to his voice.

Cassian scowled. “I know she can handle herself.”

Azriel’s smirk was subtle, but it was there. “Then why are you gripping that glass like you’re about to shatter it?”

Cassian didn’t respond. Every ounce of self-control Cassian had been clinging to snapped in an instant and his vision went red. Instead, he slammed the glass onto the bar and pushed off, weaving through the crowd towards her.

He told himself he was just checking in, making sure no one crossed a line. That’s what a good friend would do. It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to snap that male’s head for standing so damn close to her.

He was on his feet before he even realized it, his wings flaring slightly as he stalked toward them, his chest heaving with every step.

By the time he reached them, the male had pressed another kiss to her lips, his fingers grazing the curve of her hip and thigh where the slit of her dress opened. Cassian’s growl was low, dangerous.

The blond-haired male didn’t even see him coming. One moment, he was smiling down at her, and the next, Cassian was shoving him back with enough force to send him stumbling.

“What the hell are you doing?” the male demanded, his tone dripping with indignation.

“Get your hands off her,” Cassian snarled, stepping between them. His hazel eyes blazed as he loomed over the male, his fists clenched at his sides.

The male glanced at Y/n, his brows raising. “Who the hell is this?”

Y/n’s voice was sharp as a blade. “He’s no one.”

Cassian froze, the words hitting harder than a blow.

The male straightened, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. “I was dancing with her. What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” Cassian growled, stepping closer, “is you putting your hands on someone who didn’t ask for it.”

The male scoffed, glancing at Y/n as if for confirmation. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

Cassian’s vision went red. He grabbed the front of the male’s shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground as he bared his teeth. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“Cassian!” she shouted, shoving herself between them and forcing him to let the male go.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/n demanded. Her hazel eyes burned with fury, her chest heaving as she glared up at him. “You can’t just attack someone because they looked at me.”

“He didn’t just look at you,” Cassian snapped, his voice rough with anger. “He kissed you.”

“So what?” she shot back, her tone dripping with defiance. “I let him. It’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it’s not,” he growled, stepping closer. “You don’t know him.”

“No,” she interrupted, stepping closer. Her cheeks were flushed, her hazel eyes blazing with anger—and defiance. “You don’t get to do this, Cassian. You don’t get to storm in and act like an overbearing big brother.”

He growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m protecting you.”

“Protecting me from what?” she shot back, her voice rising. “From enjoying myself? From being kissed by someone I actually want to kiss?”

The male, wisely, had started backing away, but Cassian barely noticed. His attention was locked on Y/n, her words cutting into him like a blade.

“That’s not the point,” he said, his voice rough. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s after.”

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “What he’s after? Gods, Cassian, he’s after exactly what I want him to be after. I’m not a child. I don’t need you to swoop in and save me.”

His hands fisted at his sides, his wings twitching with barely contained frustration. “You’re being reckless.”

“No,” she said, stepping even closer, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “What I’m being is an adult—a grown woman who doesn’t need you hovering over her like I’m still the little girl you grew up with.”

The words struck deep, and for a moment, Cassian didn’t know how to respond. He just stood there, staring at her as the music thumped around them, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath.

Cassian stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “You don’t see what I see. You don’t see how dangerous it is—how dangerous they are.”

“And you don’t see that I can handle myself,” she snapped, her voice breaking slightly as her hands fisted at her sides. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Cassian. Not anymore.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the tension between them crackling like a storm about to break.

“Go back to your friends at the bar, Cassian…and don’t wait up for me.” she spat.

Then Y/n turned and disappeared back into the crowd on the dance floor, her hips swaying and golden-brown hair shining as she walked away without looking back.

Cassian stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t follow her, didn’t even glance at the male who’d disappeared into the crowd. He just stood there, the weight of her words sinking deep into his bones.

Before he could respond, Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the crowd. “Cassian.”

He turned, only to see her standing at the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed and glaring. “You done making a fool of yourself, or are we going to train tomorrow with a hangover?”

********

Cassian POV

Cassian had been pacing the sitting room of the House of Wind all night, his wings twitching with every step. He had watched her leave Rita’s more than six hours ago in that damned red dress—short, tight, and clinging to her like a second skin. The memory of it was burned into his mind, especially when she’d sashayed out without bothering to wear anything beneath it.

No panties.

And it had tortured him.

Now it was nearly dawn, and she still wasn’t back.

She wasn’t a child. He knew that. She could take care of herself. But that didn’t stop the irrational irritation bubbling under his skin that had started the moment she walked into Rita’s wearing that gods-damned dress and hadn’t let up since.

The Inner Circle had all returned hours ago and retired to bed, but Y/n was nowhere to be seen. She’d gone off on her own after she’d left the dance floor, brushing him off with “Don’t wait up.”

Of course, he’d waited up.

The second the door creaked open, Cassian spun around. Y/n stepped inside, looking composed and unbothered, those sexy thigh high boots in one hand and her hair loose around her shoulders. She didn’t even glance at him as she crossed the threshold.

“Enjoy your night?” he bit out, his voice low and sharp.

She paused, arching a brow as she set her boots by the door. “Is there a reason you’re waiting up for me, Cassian?”

His wings flared slightly as he stalked closer. “Waiting up? No. Just couldn’t sleep knowing you were out doing the walk of shame.”

She froze mid-step, turning to face him with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You left here in that dress and now you’re sneaking back in at dawn like—”

“Like what?” she snapped, her voice icy. “Careful, Commander, or I might think you’re accusing me of something.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. “I’m accusing you of being reckless. You disappear all night wearing that, and you think people aren’t going to make assumptions? You think those males out there see you as anything more than—”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted, her voice deadly quiet. “You don’t get to lecture me about my choices, Cassian. Not when you’ve paraded a revolving door of women through this house since I’ve been here.”

His brows drew together, his voice hardening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Oh, come on. Do you really think we can’t hear you? Everyone knows what you’re up to. Your walls aren’t as soundproof as you think.”

Cassian’s face flushed, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for a response. Finally, he growled, “That’s different.”

“Different?” she said, her voice incredulous. “How? At least I’m discreet. I don’t rub my singular overnight relationships in other people’s faces.”

“You shouldn’t be so reckless,” he snapped, his tone thick with frustration. “Those males are only after one thing.”

Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped closer to him, her voice rising. “I know what they’re after, Cassian. I’m not an idiot. But tell me, why is that your concern?”

“Because you should have more self-respect!” he barked, his wings flaring behind him.

The slap came before he could say anything else. The sound echoed in the room, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

She lowered her hand, her voice was low, trembling with fury. “You have no right to judge me. You can’t stand the fact that I’m not that little sixteen-year-old girl anymore, the one who used to trail after you like a lost puppy. It drives you crazy to see that I don’t need you. That I’ve grown up.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “That’s not—”

“Don’t you dare deny it,” she hissed, stepping even closer, her finger jabbing into his chest. “You can’t handle that I’m a woman now, that I make my own choices, and that none of them have anything to do with you.”

He stared at her, his chest heaving, her words hitting him harder than any blow ever had. She glared up at him, her face flushed with anger, her eyes blazing.

And in that moment, Cassian wasn’t sure if he wanted to shout back or grab her and—

But she didn’t give him a chance to figure it out. She spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Cassian stood there, alone, the sting of her words—and her slap—lingering long after she was gone. And he realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was right.

It did drive him crazy.

********

Cassian POV

What the fuck was going on with him?

He was the Lord of Bloodshed.

The General.

He didn’t let anyone affect him like this.

It started as a small distraction. A flicker of a thought that Cassian told himself would pass. Y/n had been a part of his life for so many years, it was like she always been there in the background even after he had left the camps.  

But now, she was in his head, invading his every waking moment—and his nights, too.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. He’d see her on the training grounds, her golden-brown hair catching the light, her hazel eyes flashing with defiance, and he’d feel a pang of… something.

Something he refused to name.

Pride, maybe, at how far she’d come.

Admiration for her skill.

Yeah, that had to be it.

Nothing more than that.

Except it was more.

It wasn’t just the way she fought, the way she moved with deadly grace. It was the way she carried herself, the way she pushed back against him with that sharp tongue of hers, her words cutting and clever. It was the fire in her, the spark that had always been there but now burned brighter, hotter, than ever before.

And it consumed him.

He told himself it was nothing.

A passing thought, a moment of weakness.

But it kept happening.

Night after night, she was there, haunting him, until the thought of her became impossible to ignore.

Even when he wasn’t alone, she was there.

He tried to drown her out in the arms of other females. It wasn’t unusual for him to seek company after a long day, a way to unwind and forget.

But now, it felt different.

Wrong.

No matter who he was with, no matter how soft their touch or sweet their voice, his thoughts always drifted to her.

And nights were the worst.

When he wasn’t trying to drown her out with other females, when the House of Wind was quiet, and he was alone in his bed, his thoughts would drift to her.

He’d close his eyes and see her—not as the girl he’d grown up with, but as the woman she had become.

Strong, fierce, beautiful.

He’d picture the curve of her lips, the way her golden-brown hair spilled over her shoulders, the way her hazel eyes held both challenge and promise.

Now, as he lay in bed after his confrontation with her, his hand moving steadily up and down his cock, Cassian closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the fantasy. In his mind, she was straddling him, her hair falling in soft waves around her face as she leaned down to kiss him. Her lips were warm, eager, and she tasted like mint and something sweet. He moaned softly, his hips bucking slightly as he imagined her grinding against him, her heat pressing into his throbbing length.

“Cassian…” Her voice was breathy, needy, and it sent shivers down his spine. He could feel her hands roaming his chest, nails lightly scraping his skin as she moved lower, trailing kisses down his neck, his collarbone, his abs. When she reached the waistband of his underwear, she looked up at him with those fucking eyes, and he nearly came right then and there.

“Please,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to the empty room around him. But in his mind, she was already pulling his underwear down, freeing his cock from its confines. Her lips parted as she took him into her mouth, humming softly as she started to move. The sensation—real and imagined all at once—was overwhelming. His fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as she sucked him deeper, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.

“Gods, baby… you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips thrusting involuntarily as pleasure coursed through him. He could feel every inch of her mouth on him, every flick of her tongue, every subtle movement that drove him closer to the edge. And then, just as he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled away, climbing back onto his lap and positioning herself above him.

In the fantasy, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Her voice was barely audible, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. Before he could respond, she was lowering herself onto him, taking him inside her inch by agonizing inch. His breath caught in his throat as she sheathed him completely, her tight heat enveloping him in a way that felt almost too real.

She started to move, rocking her hips slowly at first, then faster, more urgently. Her hands gripped his shoulders for balance, her nails digging into his skin as she rode him. Cassian’s hands found her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up to meet her. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room—skin slapping against skin, mingled with their labored breathing and the occasional moan or whimper.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he watched her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, and her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure. She looked so fucking beautiful like this—so perfect—that he couldn’t stand it. He needed her closer, needed to feel her against him. He sat up slightly, pulling her into his arms as he kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers as they moved together.

The pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. He could feel the tension building in his groin, a familiar pressure that threatened to overwhelm him. She must have felt it too because she gasped, her nails raking down his back as she clung to him. “Cassian,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I’m close.”

“So am I,” he admitted, his voice strained as he fought to hold on just a little longer. But it was no use. With one final thrust, he came undone, his release surging through him in waves of ecstasy. His seed spilled into her as she cried out, her body shuddering as she reached her own climax. For a moment, they just held each other, their hearts pounding in unison as they rode out the aftershocks.

---

When Cassian opened his eyes, he was alone. The fantasy faded as reality set in, leaving him breathless and achingly aware of the emptiness beside him. He glanced down at his hand, still wrapped around his softening cock, and sighed.

It wasn’t real.

None of it was.

But damn, it had felt like it.

It was maddening.

She was everywhere, in everything he did. When he trained, he thought of her, of the way she pushed herself to her limits. When he laughed with the Inner Circle, he couldn’t help but glance at her, wanting to see that rare, genuine smile of hers.

He thought of what it would feel like to finally touch her, to finally have her.

But she wasn’t his. She never had been.

And that was the worst part of all. Because no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much she consumed his thoughts, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Couldn’t risk ruining what little was left between them.

So he let the thoughts torment him, let them twist and turn inside him like a storm he couldn’t escape.

He was too afraid of ruining what they had. Their friendship was important to him—too important to risk losing over some stupid attraction.

So he kept his feelings to himself, burying them deep down where no one could see them.

Except when he was alone.

That was when he let himself fantasize about her, imagining all the things he’d never dare say out loud.

********

Cassian POV

The sparring ring felt more like a battlefield.

The tension between Cassian and Y/n had been building all morning, and now it was boiling over. He swung harder than he should, every strike fueled by the argument from earlier, by the image of her walking into the House of Wind at sunrise wearing that damned dress, no panties and someone else's scent.

She was holding her own, but her movements were sharper, angrier, each attack matching the fury in her hazel eyes. When his blade sliced her arm, just above the elbow, he froze for a fraction of a second, guilt hitting him like a cold wave.

But she didn't freeze. She hissed in pain, clutching the wound briefly before glaring at him, fire blazing in her eyes. "You bastard,” she spat. "You're not sparring-you're trying to punish me."

"Maybe I am," he snapped, his voice low and rough. "You're acting reckless, and someone needs to remind you how to take care of yourself."

Her laughter was sharp, bitter. "Take care of myself? That's rich, coming from you. The only reckless one here is you, swinging like you've got something to prove.”

"I don't have to prove anything to you," he growled, stepping closer.

"Then stop acting like it," she shot back, lunging at him without warning. Her blade caught his shoulder, grazing the leather, and the satisfaction in her eyes only made his temper snap further.

"You don't listen," he said through gritted teeth, meeting her next strike with a force that made her stumble. "You never listen."

"Maybe because I'm tired of hearing the same bullshit," she snapped, pushing back hard enough to drive him a step back. "You're angry, Cassian, and it has nothing to do with me. Figure your shit out before you come at me."

Her words stung, and before he could stop himself, he stepped into her space, twisting her sword from her grip and sweeping her legs out from under her. She hit the mat hard, and before she could recover, he pinned her, his hands gripping her wrists and his weight pressing her into the ground.

"Let me go," she snarled, struggling against him, her hazel eyes blazing with fury.

"Not until you listen,” he growled, his voice rough and trembling with barely contained emotion. "You don't get to walk away from this."

"Walk away from what?" she demanded, her breath coming in quick, angry bursts. "From you not being able to handle the fact that I don't need you?"

"Gods, you piss me off," he ground out, his face so close to hers that he could feel her breath against his lips. "You don't even see it, do you? How impossible you are."

Then she shoved him off her with surprising force, sending him sprawling onto the mat.

Cassian barely had time to process what had happened before she was on her feet, grabbing her sword and pointing it at him. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, and her hazel eyes burned with fury.

"We're going again," she said, her voice hard and unyielding.

"Y/n – “

"Pick up your sword, General." Her tone left no room for argument.

Cassian's jaw tightened, his body still thrumming with everything that had just happened, but he stood, grabbing his sword.

"Fine," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's finish this."

They clashed again, their movements even more aggressive, every strike a continuation of their argument. The air around them was thick with tension, their shouts and the clang of metal echoing across the training grounds.

"You think you can control me?" She snapped, her blade slicing toward his side.

"I'm not trying to control you," he growled, deflecting her strike and stepping closer. "I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection," she shot back, swinging at him again. "I've never needed it."

"Why are you being so damn difficult?" he snarled, driving her back.

"Why are you being so insufferable?" she countered, her blade locking with his.

Before either of them could land another strike, a shadow curled between them, and Azriel appeared, stepping directly into the line of fire.

His voice was calm, but there was steel in it.

"Enough."

Cassian and Y/n froze, both breathing hard, their swords still raised. Azriel's sharp gaze flicked between them, his shadows curling around his feet like smoke.

"You're going to kill each other," he said flatly.

"She started it," Cassian muttered, lowering his blade.

Azriel arched a brow. "And you're acting like a child."

Y/n scoffed, lowering her sword as well, though her grip on the hilt was still tight. "I was fine until he decided to lose his temper."

Azriel's gaze shifted to her arm, where blood still seeped from the cut.

"You're done for today," he said firmly. "Both of you."

Cassian opened his mouth to argue, but the look Azriel gave him stopped him in his tracks.

Grumbling under his breath, he sheathed his sword and stalked off the mat.

Y/n stayed where she was, glaring at his retreating back. "Bastard," she muttered.

Azriel sighed. "You're not wrong."

Chapter 4

[little-diable]

Make me proud - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This man follows me around, he's just the perfect fucked up priest. Remember, don't like it, don't read it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She'd do anything to make him proud. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, power play, oral (f + m), wrong use of a rosary, religious imagery, abusing faith

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (1.3k words)

“Do you still use the rosary for your prayers?” She was engulfed in darkness, eyes focused on his face that was alighted by the flickering candle. Priest Riddle was leaning back in his chair, toying with the rosary he held in his hand. “Let me hear your pretty voice, pet.” 

“I do, father.” She was kneeling, knees pressed to the carpet - a position she was all too familiar with by now. It has been months since she had first fallen for his games, getting stuck in a trap she had no will to escape from. 

“Good girl, I knew you’d do me proud.” He nodded his head at her, a wordless signal for her to crawl closer. Her aching knees were dragged along the carpet, just like her palms, all until she came to a halt in front of him.

The rosary dangled from his hand like a pendulum, wordless signs as if God himself was speaking to her, warning (y/n) not to give in to his manipulation. But she couldn’t listen, and had to ignore all warnings as the pulsing between her thighs grew stronger. 

“You know what to do, don’t you?” She exposed her tongue to him, staring up at the priest with lust-blow pupils. He spat onto her tongue, watching her swallow with a satisfied grin spreading on his lips - he could do whatever he was desperate for to her, and she’d take it all without protesting. 

“Father,” it was just a sigh, a sound so quiet she feared he’d miss it. His hand found her cheek, thumb stroking her warm skin for a moment before he let go again. (Y/n)’s eyes found his hand, stretched out towards her with his golden ring perfectly fitting to his finger. Their eyes held contact as she dipped her head down, kissing the ring to communicate her will to follow his every command.

“Get to work, pet.” He leaned back once again, rosary still dangling from his fist. (Y/n)’s impatient fingers worked on his belt, freeing his cock with a few clumsy movements that had him chuckling. She was eager, wanting to feel his heavy cock resting on her tongue, wanting to taste the salty bite of his pre-cum, a taste she was aching for whenever they were away from one another.

She spat onto his tip, letting her saliva drip down his length before wrapping her trembling fingers around him. The first of many raspy moans left the priest, letting the sound vibrate on her skin until it came to rest between her thighs. By now she had already soaked through her panties, even though their game had just started, ready to house his cock for hours on end. 

Her tongue was pushed past her teeth, circling his tip a few times before moving down his length. She traced his vein with the tip of her tongue, spurred on by the sounds the man made for her only. (Y/n) couldn’t stop but look up at him again, tracing the shadows the candle forced to dance on his features, a raging storm she’d fall victim to. 

“God is proud of your work, you're proving to us how willing you are to reach the pearly gates.” She finally took him into her mouth, hallowing her cheeks while taking more and more of him. The hand that didn’t hold onto the rosary found her head, not daring to give her a chance to pull away.

Her desperate need to hear more praises spurred her on, bobbing her head faster while keeping a tight grasp on him. She knew that she should trust his promises, not daring to doubt a man serving God, and yet deep down she knew she wouldn’t be able to pass the pearly gates - but his moans were all worth it, just like the comforting thought of being fucked by him soon. 

“Fuck, He truly took his time with your mouth, how is your tongue so wicked when you’re nothing but a scared little lamb?” She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that she was by far more than that, but Priest Riddle didn’t allow her to pull away. All (y/n) could do was tighten her grip on him, fucking her mouth with his twitching cock. Spit dripped from her mouth, rolling down her chin before she used it to rub it against his velvety skin. 

She could tell that he was close to giving in, knuckles growing whiter as he tightened his grip on the rosary. (Y/n) looked up at him, trying to ignore the burning of her knees or the feeling of her arousal sticking to her inner thighs, solemnly focused on making him cum. 

Seconds before he could fall over the edge, he pulled away, pumping himself a few times to paint her face with his cum. The heavy moan he let go of as he came drew a whine out of her, tongue exposed to taste his cum. Priest Riddle was panting, hand finding her cheek to scoop up some of his release, pushing it into her mouth to watch her suck his digit clean.

“I feel the paradise near when you do that, pet.” Heat clung to her skin, a sensation she couldn’t pay much attention to as he pulled her to her feet. Within seconds, (y/n) found herself pushed down on his desk, back pressed against the cold wood. “Here, be good for me and take this.” 

He pushed the cross of the rosary past her lips, forcing her teeth to bite down on it. It was a simple test, seeing how far he could go, how much she would disrespect her religion for the promise of being corrupted by her priest. She’d walk through hell and back for him, knowing there was no need to rip herself free while getting lost in his secret paradise. 

For a moment, (y/n) let her head roll back, eyes fluttering close to focus on the feeling of his lips kissing their way up her thighs while his hands pulled her soaked through panties down her legs. With his lips pressed against her heat, he began to eat her out like a starving man, starving like Jesus after his forty days and nights in the desert, set on finding his calling. 

His warm tongue brushed through her slit, high on the taste of her arousal, fingers rubbing her pulsing bundle. Barely any sounds managed to leave her, stopped by the cross her teeth held onto. But the priest didn’t need to hear her sounds, solemnly focused on the way her body was reacting to his touch. 

(Y/n) arched her back off the table, trying to push herself closer but he kept her pinned to the spot with one hand lingering on her lower stomach. She was losing herself in him, swallowed by the waves of the Red Sea not even he could part. 

Priest Riddle pushed his tongue into her tightness, letting her walls flutter around him to pull him further in. Both knew that they could spend hours doing this, strengthening their bond and need for one another like two lost pilgrims finally finding their destination. 

“Oh, little lamb, are you ready to meet your saviour?” Only a hum left her, eyes rolling back into her head. His fingers picked up on their speed, pressing further down on her bundle to let the blinding sensation buzz through her. (Y/n)’s hand tugged on his dark strands, hoping that she’d be able to stop herself from passing out right there and then. “Cum for me.”

The cross fell from her mouth, coming to a rest on her heaving chest. Moans broke through her, followed by sobs as he kept lapping at her folds. The satisfied expression swimming in his pupils made her pulse race even faster, high on the adrenaline his every touch pushed through her. 

“Atta girl, I knew you’d make me proud.”

[woozinhos]

I want to politely ask for a smut with hoshi where he’s obsessed with readers tits and can’t stop sucking them when he fingers and fucks the reader 🤤🥵

Hope you enjoy I think I’ve done a really good job keep requesting thank youuu <333

Hoshi had always been obsessed with your body, especially your chest. Whenever you were together, his hands were constantly wandering, exploring every inch of your skin with a desperate need.

He couldn't get enough of you, couldn't get enough of the feeling of your soft curves beneath his touch. As he lay you down on the bed, his eyes were glued to your chest, his gaze hungry and possessive. He trailed his hands up your sides, his touch feather-light as he teased you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "I could look at you all day."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.

"But I'd rather taste you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

He began to kiss his way up your chest, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your nipples, he wasted no time in taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, he slips a finger between your legs, teasing your entrance. He can feel how wet you are, and he lets out a low growl against your skin. He slides his finger inside you, slowly pumping it in and out as he continues to suck on your nipple.

He adds another finger, stretching you out as he prepares you for what's to come. He moves his mouth to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as he continues to finger you. He curls his fingers inside you, searching for that sweet spot that will drive you wild.

Hoshi is completely lost in the pleasure of your body, his focus solely on your chest. He releases your nipple with a soft pop, only to immediately switch to the other one, lavishing it with just as much attention as the first. He begins to move his fingers faster, his thrusts growing more insistent as he tries to bring you closer to the edge.

"You're so tight," he groans against your skin. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

"I can't hold back anymore," he whispers, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you. Now."

Hoshi pulls his fingers out of you, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he slowly pushes into you, savoring the feeling of being enveloped by your warmth. He pounds into you with abandon, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful thrust.

He buries his face in your chest, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses and bites across your skin. He can't get enough of the way your body feels beneath him, the way you clench around him and moan his name. Hoshi's pace becomes more frantic, his movements growing sloppy as he chases his own release. He reaches down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles, determined to bring you to orgasm with him.

Hoshi continues to lavish attention on your chest, his tongue swirling around your nipples and his hands cupping your breasts. He's completely lost in the pleasure, his mind consumed by the feeling of your body and the sounds of your moans. Hoshi looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he continues to thrust into you.

"You're so beautiful like this," he groans, his voice hoarse with desire. "So perfect, taking me so well."

Hoshi's breathing grows more ragged, his hips stuttering as he nears his peak.

"I'm so close," he pants, his voice strained. "You feel so good, I can't hold back much longer."

Hoshi grits his teeth, his eyes darkening with lust as he slams into you even harder. He lifts one hand from your hip and brings it down on your breast, the impact sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He slaps your breast again, the sound echoing through the room.

"You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hand coming down once more. "You like it when I take control and make you mine."

Hoshi's grip on your breasts tightens as he feels his release approaching. His thrusts become more erratic, his body tensing as he nears the edge.

"I'm going to fill you up," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gonna make you mine in every way possible."

With one final, deep thrust, he lets out a guttural moan and spills himself inside you.

Hoshi collapses on top of you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He buries his face in your neck, his breathing ragged as he comes down from his high. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath.

"That was... incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

[inkieflame]

Put Your Ear to My Heart (Or Set Your Teeth Against My Throat)

A Secret Life Roomies fic

Content warnings: none

1500 words

Aka, Grian has never been in an affectionate alliance, but when he joins Cleo and Etho they teach him that often affection is necessary and healthy.

Author's note: this isn't explicitly a Poly Roomies ship fic, but it I could be read that way if you like. It can also be read platonically.

At first, Grian had been relieved when Cleo and Etho had taken him in.

All season he’d been lonely, searching for a team to support him, to keep him alive in this horror-game. Cleo and Etho seemed to be the perfect fit too. Etho was logical. He knew how to take care of matters efficiently. Cleo was dangerous, and she was loyal, known to be possessive of her allies. Exactly what Grian needed.

But now he was having second thoughts.

He knew that changing bases would take some getting used to, and he’d never based with Etho or Cleo in a past game either, so anything was possible. He was wary, however, of their dynamic with each other.

Grian wasn’t sure where Etho and Cleo stood with each other since their divorce in last season. They were obviously on good enough terms to base together, but Grian doubted they had remarried or even gotten back together.

This was before he’d lived them.

Their home was so full of… attention. Grian’s shoulders were brushed when he passed one of them. They greeted him with arms around his shoulders, or their hands ruffling his hair. Goodnights were said with his palms squeezed softly.

Grian thought it was going to drive him insane.

He’d never been in an alliance so touchy. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he was grabbed that wasn’t violently, the last time he was hugged that didn’t make him fear a knife in the back. To have all that kindness suddenly? For someone to hold him just to prove that they care about him? It makes him flinch. Shy away.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the touch. In fact he has begun to crave it carnally, but it’s all too much and he can’t help but recoil.

He feels, suddenly, like he is starving.

Like he has been starving for years and only just realized it.

Tonight he is sleeping on a cot in the living room. Etho and Cleo are sharing a bed upstairs. They both asked for him to join them, but he turned them down just like every night they ask.

He knew it wasn’t uncommon for a whole alliance to share one big bed, especially in the beginning of a season when supplies were tight. It helped a group bond together, taught them that their allies were also family. But Grian didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with them. Especially not considering their relationship history.

But if he were honest, the real reason was that he didn’t think he could take a whole night tangled with them. The contact alone would keep him awake, shaking for their arms to wrap around him and hold him together.

It was easier to not put himself in that situation.

“Grian?” it’s Etho’s voice. He can hear him stepping down the stairs, “Are you still awake?”

Grian rolls over in his cot, “Barely,” he murmurs, “Do you need something?”

Etho stops at the head of the cot, “I just want to talk with you.” He buries his hand in Grian’s hair affectionately.

Grian is sick to his stomach with need. He stretches into the touch, trying to convince Etho and himself that it’s a stretch to wake himself up. His wings flop on either side of the cot.

“Yeah, what do you want to talk about?” he asks, mentally begging for the contact to stay. Just a moment longer, that’s all he needs is a moment.

When Etho pulls his hand back Grian has to bite back a whine. He sits up, hoping that Etho will take the opportunity to sit down next to him. Maybe then Grian could bump his knee against his, and he could feel the brush of skin on skin again. He feels ashamed of the thought.

Etho lingers without sitting, “Are you okay?” he asks bluntly.

Grian draws back, “Yes?” he says, “Better now then never actually.”

Etho narrows his eyes, analyzing the statement, “You know… I spent a while alone too.” He comments after a long moment. “Back in Third Life. I lived all by myself in that wool castle. And yeah, I had visitors… I was a soldier in the Red Army, but I didn’t have-” He hesitates, “Home.”

Grian is still wishing Etho would step closer.

“But after that I was in the B.E.S.T. alliance. They helped me learn that survival-” He takes in a deep breath, “Survival is about taking care of ALL your needs. Even the invisible ones. It’s important to take care of your mental health just as much as your physical health.”

Please, please sit down. Grian is aching. He can’t breath. He needs some sort of contact, he needs to be held together, he needs-

“So are you sure you’re okay?” Etho asks.

“Sit down.” Grian manages to ask through the shame, “Please.”

Etho blinks, “Of course.” He sits down, hip to hip with Grian, and puts his arm around him comfortingly. Etho’s fingers gently stroke his wing.

Grian is so lucky, and so hungry, and he’s melting into Etho’s side because he needs help. He needs help.

“What’s wrong?” Etho whispers.

Grian can’t say anything. His head is spinning. His eyes are unfocused in the dark room. All he can think of is Etho holding him, even if it’s only slightly. He buries his face in the crook of Etho’s neck, hungry taking in the contact like it’s his lifeline.

And now Etho is pulling back, concerned and confused, and Grian forces himself to shrink away like he’s allergic to skin. He’s burning with embarrassment and need and ache. He pushes himself away until he’s curled into the opposite side of the cot.

“What’s wrong?” Etho asks again, desperation seeping into his voice, “Tell me how I can help you.”

There is a lump in Grian’s throat. He’s so close to begging for Etho to come back. Or to call Cleo down, and let her hold him in those large, kind hands. He’s afraid that if he stays silent he’ll begin to sob when Etho leaves.

“Can I- can I just have a hug?” Je breathes, aching. “I’m sorry- I just need- I don’t want to bother you-“

He is cut off by Etho closing the distance, and wrapping Grian in him. Grian’s face is pressed against his chest. This is safe, and warm, and the ache is beginning to melt away again

“Grian.” Etho says firmly, “Uou’re not bothering me. You don’t need to do anything to earn it either. I’m here because I care for you.”

Grian shudders. He pulls Etho tighter against him, so they are entirely flush and Etho us nearly laying on Grian. Etho doesn’t complain. He just lets Grian eat it up.

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Etho promises, “Understand?”

Grian nods into the soft folds of Etho’s T-shirt. Etho moves his arms up and wraps one hand around the base of Grian’s neck. The other begins to run, kind and steady, through Grian’s hair. Grian let’s out a weak whine at the motion.

After a long moment, Etho speaks up again. “Cleo has been worried about you too. Will you come to bed with us? She wants to help.”

Confusion and embarrassment flood Grian’s face, “She already knows about this?”

Etho smiles against Grian’s the top of Grian’s head, “You weren’t subtle. We could both tell something has been bothering you for a while, and we couldn’t stand to see you fall apart anymore just because you wouldn’t open up to us.”

There are footsteps, and Cleo is standing in the stairwell, “Is he coming?” she calls.

Etho bends his head down to look into Grian’s dazed eyes, “Let us love you?”

Grian is nodding before he can overthink this. All he knows is he needs to stay submerged in this feeling of home. He needs more.

Etho turns to give Cleo a thumbs up, “Will you carry him?”

“Of course” like there is no question that she would.

And Grian is being wrapped and held and lifted and loved. He slips his arms around her neck and pulls himself as close as possible. An embarrassingly needy sound escapes him, but Cleo has only fondness for him as he is carried up the stairs.

He is laid on the queen bed they share. For a brief moment, all the touching and the comfort draw away, and Grian is aching again.

They can’t do this to him. They can’t promise their care and then withdraw it again. He needs this. He can’t survive with just a taste when he feels so starved.

But then they are rolling into bed next to him, and everything is okay again. Etho wraps himself around Grian’s middle, so he is laying with his chest pressed against Grian’s back.

Cleo throws a blanket over both of them and crawls under it herself. She is face to face with Grian.

She reaches up to brush his cheek gently, “I’ve felt this ache too.” She whispers, “We all have. You’re okay now. We’ll help you.”

Grian still feels sick. He’s not meant to be here, he’s intruding.

But at the same time, they say they want him here. They like it when Grian asks for help and comfort.

Grian closes his eyes. “Thank you.

He still will not sleep through the ache, but maybe tomorrow he will.